


Yours and Mine

by cobblepologist



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Blood and Violence, Codependency, Gaslighting, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Sad Ending, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, they are. a Lot.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:01:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobblepologist/pseuds/cobblepologist
Summary: Oswald has loved him, loves him, will love him. There is nothing he can do to force them apart. Every injury just seems to instill a new desire in Oswald. Every broken bone only possesses him to reach out for him further. Cut off his hands, and he will find a new way to hold Edward's.The two of them always end up here.





	Yours and Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happygolovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/gifts).



> inspired by the darling happygolovely's bitter. i love her to pieces ♡

These are the parts they play, even years later. Even if time has changed their appearances, they are still suspended here. Frozen. A snake chasing itself, consuming itself.

Even with other pieces on the board, they only have eyes for each other. Knight and king, a straight shot to see who can take who first. Oswald chases away that feeling with another shot, another chaser.

Entrapment. A hateful and malicious place. One on each side of the door.

He is caught in a snare. He can gnaw off his leg or wait for the hunter to come.

Sometimes Ed comes of his own volition, sometimes Oswald drags him here. Their confines do not allow them a long departure.

Always crawling back.

Oswald does not remember who started it this time. The lights are too bright and too high. A warehouse. A table. Wine. Their own private trap. It does not matter where they are. All around them is the dock, written in the air. Scorpion, meet frog. They drown together on repeat.

"You ruined me," Edward says mournfully. A loaded opening, like Russian roulette.

"You're one to talk, dearest one." Oswald taps a finger against his abdomen, against that old wound. It still hurts. For a time, he has known nothing but pain.

"You wasted what we were," he accuses, voice raising even as Oswald looks through him entirely. He reaches for the wine. He knows it drives him mad. Ed's hands grip the edge of the table. They are ghostwhite. "We were flawless. A perfect machine. That is on you."

"Mutually-assured destruction, I'm sure." The coldest of wars. He is anything but a machine, surely he has proven that much to Ed. There are no winners. Between them, there are no victims or villains.

"I'll have you dead."

"You have me regardless." Oswald preens. They are a double-edged sword, after all. "I'm yours to keep."

"Then let me do what I want with you," he says. It is a request, not a command. This is how it is between them, the cards constantly changing hands, the scales forever tipping back and forth.

Oswald laughs. "What you'd do to me isn't what I want. I'm not stupid, Edward." Same flaw, but not the same mistakes. Edward shoots him once, but not again. He stabs him, and Oswald throws out the knives. Precaution after precaution.

He has resigned himself to this.

"If you're truly mine, you'll let me do as I please."

Oswald has loved him, loves him, will love him. There is nothing he can do to force them apart. Every injury just seems to instill a new desire in Oswald. Every broken bone only possesses him to reach out for him further. Cut off his hands, and he will find a new way to hold Edward's.

Edward wonders if two parasites can love one another.

"You have no idea what I'd do to you, beloved." He sees Oswald shiver. He leans forward suddenly. "I'd count your teeth with my tongue. I want to feel beneath your bones, inside of your chest. Every single fracture, Oswald, every one."

Oswald seems unfazed, unimpressed. "Really, darling. Control yourself."

This tips Edward over. Anger inhabits his body. He drives his fist into the table. Oswald does not even flinch. He screams.

"You took everything from me," Edward accuses, towers over him like he's made of ivory. "What for? I gave you everything."

Oswald's fists clench. "You did no such thing. You said you would. You said you would and you lied to me, cheated me, caught me where you wanted me."

They are two different recollections of the same story.

"Oswald," Edward says, pitifully. "You could come back with me. You could be mine again."

Everything is a reminder. The color green. Large bodies of water. Question marks. Any man who resembles him. Glasses. He runs and Edward hides around every corner. He has always belonged to him, always will.

Oswald stays where he is, even as Edward encroaches on him. His fingers across his jawline.

"You're beautiful in the way a hurricane is beautiful. In the way a stabbing is," Edward whispers, and he swallows, eyes welling up. Overflooded. He has been gasping for air since Ed shot him.

The strangeness of his words have him off-kilter. Edward leans down with a force that almost tips his chair backwards. He steals a kiss. It does not matter; he's stolen everything else already.

Hoists him up. Their legs intertwine, and Oswald is furious in twisting his hands into his shirt. One and the same, perhaps. Knotted.

"I hate who I am around you," Edward breathes. "and I hate who you've become."

"I have always been this."

"That's not true," he screams. "I loved you once. You cared for me once. And then you took her from me."

Oswald shrugs. "I have always been selfish. You know that. You are too."

"What's wrong with you?" Sudden, like a door slamming shut. Like every crying fit he has had every night since they broke.

Feels like another fracture. Split his ribcage open, and you can see his heart. "The same thing that's wrong with you."

There is a softness in his eyes for a moment, a certain understanding.

Breaks the wine glass furiously. What you love is always what kills you, Edward thinks. He almost laughs. It could be him or the liquor at this rate.

He smiles. "I want this to be as painless as possible." He slides the glass down Oswald's arm. "How does that feel, my love?" His skin erupts, and all that love threatens to drown them both. Blood blossoms, petals and radiates outwards.

This is a kindness. This is a mercy killing.

There is a perfect line down his arm now. A channel to his heart. If they had more time, Edward would pry the ends of his skin apart, see how each nerve and muscle there works.

Instead, he brings it to his lips, licks down the line, mouth flooded with silver and gold. Oswald moans in a low, horrible way. The pain or the pressure.

Ed's tongue reaching inside of his wrist. To find the thing that makes him what he is. Chokes on the sugar and solitude in his veins. His teeth rot. All of him decays. Wilting.

He blacks out eventually. Edward has slipped too far, slit too far. Oswald loses his blood and gives it to him. If this pain is too much, than being apart is unbearable, unsustainable.

Oswald can't die. He needs Ed too much. Ed needs him too much.

In the quiet, he bandages him, wrapping his arm. This is his gift to him.

After, he leaves again, to wait until next time.


End file.
